


Moving On

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Suilad Aran Thranduil [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: thranduil is my baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:38:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It means replacing him in all things, and never having him back. It’s about how you can’t find the will to do that, even though you must.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Again. I do not know how it happened, but somehow feels happened. I sorry. (not really)

It doesn’t matter the words they use when they tell you. It doesn’t matter the tone of voice they use or whether they move their arms to embrace you. It doesn’t matter if they are crying or if they are trying not to cry. It’s not about them. In a way, for you, it will never be about them again. Not them. Never them. Never them who was the messenger. Never them who you wanted to cast from your life if it meant you could rewind time. Never them who spoke the words you needed to hear. But it’s not about _them,_ and in many ways it will never be about them again. It’s not about them. Them who still draw air through lungs and expel it once more over lips. Them whose chests rise and fall at a steady pace. Them whose hearts still beat in living bodies. Them who still wake in the morning and fall asleep in the light of the stars. It’s not about them. _It’s not about them._

It’s about **_them._** Them who lie still as the rocks in the fields. Them whose last breaths rattled through their lungs like a cacophony of metal against stone. Them whose hands shook as life fled from their bones. Them whose eyes closed never to see again. It’s about them. Them who held your hand and tried so hard never to let go. Them whose eyes cried tears you felt melt the ice from your heart. Them whose last words were for you, and you alone. Them who never wanted to see you go, so they went first. It’s about them. _It’s about them._

It’s about **_him_**. That’s right, isn’t it? For you, it’s about him. Your great big strong adar. Your unmoving rock. Your caring and comforting old tree. Your tough but just king. Your loving but strict father. It’s about him, isn’t it? It’s about him. Thranduil Oropherion, your father. It’s about him and the arrow that took him from you. It’s about that arrow, and all other arrows. It’s about the arrows you have cast from yourself and will never touch again, about the bow you snapped and threw into the Enchanted River. It’s about the darkness that grew in your heart at the sight of that shaft sticking from his throat. It’s about how your weapons will be the sword, and twin blades, and throwing knives. How you will never touch a bow and arrows again in your life. It’s about him. And how he died defending you. How it should have been your throat with the arrow through it, instead it was his. It’s about that. About how you should not be alive.

It’s about the fact that you didn’t need Galion’s hand squeezing on your shoulder as tears filled his eyes and he told you your father was gone. It’s about the fact you didn’t need that because you felt your father die beneath your hands, and no you wouldn’t let go of him, and no that did not mean you didn’t understand what had happened. It’s about the fact Tauriel took a circlet of interwoven greenleaves and placed it upon your head and forced you to finish the battle as commander and king. It’s about the fact that you didn’t need her to do that, you didn’t need the crown upon your head to proclaim all that you had lost, the hole in your heart was proof enough, you didn’t need the crown upon your head to proclaim all that you had gained, the new weight upon your shoulders was evidence enough. It’s about him, and how his dying words were that you would succeed as king where he had failed. That you would always have his love and always have his guidance, and that he had always been proud of you.

It’s about the fact that all you could do as he died beneath your hands was cry at him not to go. Was plead at him to stay. It’s about the fact that he died and you were useless. What good are you if you could not save your father? It’s about the fact that you know now how he has felt all these years. Carrying those nightmares from Oropher’s death. It’s about the fact that he found a way to move on and somehow you must now too. It’s about the fact that you don’t know how to move on, when moving on means erasing all the things that were his, it means taking the throne that was only ever his. It means claiming the room that was his, it means claiming the title that was his. It means replacing him in all things, and never having him back. It’s about how you can’t find the will to do that, even though you must.

It’s about how nothing will ever be about anything other than him, ever again. He is gone from life but you will never let him go. It’s about that, too.


End file.
